


Between Snarls and Bites: The Starks.

by hecatefromthedarkness



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Arya Stark, BAMF Jon Snow, Dickon Tarly Lives, F/M, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Mating Bites, Rickon Lives, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-06-25 02:04:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19736140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecatefromthedarkness/pseuds/hecatefromthedarkness
Summary: There is something about the Starks and how close they are to their sigil.





	1. The Dragon and The Wolf

The first time Rhaegar set his indigo eyes on Lyanna’s steel gray ones she is unsuccessfully taking off her armor. She freezes in fright when she sees him. It is at that moment that for the first time for a long while that he laughs, truly laughs. 

When she notices he has not the intention of taking her to his father she gives four long strides to stand right in front of him. 

“Will you be a true knight and help a lady, Ser?” She snarls the word lady as if it pains her tongue. “Or will you continue laughing at my distress?”

Ser. She calls him, not Your Grace or My Prince. 

He manages to compose himself and proceeds to help her. The top of her head can barely reach his shoulder.

“Where did you learn to ride a horse like that? I doubt your Lord father would allow for a Lady of your station to practice jousting.”

She doesn’t answer right away but hides the mismatched armor behind a bush. 

“Do you promise not to tell a soul about me?” she asks him with insolence. Rhaegar smiles tightly at this.

“My Lady, your secret is safe with me.” He assures her. 

“Good.” She offers.

“Lyanna.” He hears a soft voice calling her name. 

“Howland.” She replies. The youth that approaches is a boy only a few inches taller than the she-wolf. His green eyes take notices of him and immediately bows.

“My Prince, forgive Lady Lyanna, it wasn’t her intention to cause the ire of His Grace, your father.” The small boy urges him in a frightened voice. He would like to tell them both that breathing causes his father anger. 

“Shut up, Howland.” She frowns at the boy. “He promised he will keep his mouth shut.” The she-wolf looks at him in the eyes, and he sees silver specks dancing in her eyes. 

He watches her leaves as her long dark brown tangles from side to side in a loose braid.

It is their wedding night. Somehow he manages to find a Septon corrupt enough to wed them and Rhaegar takes her as a second wife. 

In the months of knowing Lyanna Stark, he has fallen deeply in love with her. In the beginning, he convinces himself he was just trying to fulfill the prophecy. The Dragon must have Three Heads, and he prays for Visenya.

The fact that Elia approves of it was such a relief.

Her kisses are light and shy for a while. He is on top of her holding his weight on his knees and arms, trying not to crush her.

Within time, she grows bold and becomes demanding. He feels her sharp teeth and tongue invading his mouth. He uses this distraction to lift her night shift, and she is completely naked beneath him. Is time to take his breeches off.

He enters her slowly, makes it a little painful as possible.

She howls. Loudly. He thanks the gods that he chose The Tower of Joy in the middle of nowhere in Dorne to do this. 

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes lock in hers with worry.

“No. It just stings a little."

He keeps kissing her to sooth the fear she might have. 

When he is completely shed inside her, he starts to move in and out with slow thrusts.

She closes her eyes and her breathing become hollow. He sweats of how tight she is. After a moment of this slow torture, he can’t keep up and his pace increases. He is gifted with the sight of her face twisting in pleasurable agony and right before he is about to spend himself in her. Sharp teeth as small knives are cutting through the skin of his right shoulder. It is a strange mix of pleasure and pain that only helps to prolong his release. He can only compare the experience to when he laid with a woman for the first time. Confusing and wonderful.

His right shoulder stinks once again when Robert plunges his Warhammer against his chest. He is wet, the water of The Trident and his own blood.  
Lyanna. He whispers.


	2. The Quiet Wolf

It took them a long while to settle. Which it shouldn’t, years ago she knew this will be her home. It was summer and it was cold still, the snow fell from the skies. She missed The Riverlands dearly. Her sister, her father, the spring.

Her Lord Husband, not the man she was intended to wed in the first place, was pleasant enough, he was an attractive man, not in the same manner as his brother. Where Brandon was taller and had a wild beauty about him, Ned’s beauty was solemn. Brandon needn’t smile to have her blush like a maiden. Whenever Ned smiled, as rare as it was. It was like watching a flower blossom right in front of your eyes. Within the three years living in Winterfell she learned to appreciate such occurrence.

Old Nan referred to him as the Quiet Wolf and she understood why. Ned was a sullen, quiet man. His manner of speaking wasn’t flowery in any way. He said his piece, quietly and clearly. Beneath that quietness, there was iron, nay, Valyrian Steel. Light but deadly.

The only thing expressing about the man were his eyes, Grays and unforgiven. Much like the North. She has been the victim of one of those stares once before. She asked him about the boy’s mother and why should he remain alongside his trueborn son. 

“He is my blood.” He told her in his icy voice. “That’s the only thing you need to know. He shall be here with me.” And then he set those eyes on her, and she would swear that The Father himself was judging her as if she just committed the greatest sin the Seven Kingdoms history. The subject was moot after that.

Her husband was a devout man. Often, she would find him kneeling beneath the Weirwood tree praying to his strange Gods, he would take little Robb and the bastard with him. She believed in the Seven; The Mother, The Maiden, The Father, The Warrior, The Crone, The Smith, and The Stranger. The first time he set foot in the Godswood the face carved in the Weirwood tree judged her too. The red sap made it looked like a face bleeding. 

Today was a good day. He was in a good mood, which was great, little by little he was handling the passing of his siblings and, father. He even granted her one of those smiles, she smiled him back. 

She found him in the hall that leads to their chambers. That was queer too. In the south the Lord and the Lady only shared their chamber in the nights they laid together. Here, she slept with her Lord husband every night. Even when there was no coupling involved. She learned quickly why. If the day was cold with the sun shining above them, the nights were even colder. Winter is coming indeed.

“Ned.” She called him, giving him a sultry look. She wanted to ask for something. 

He smiled at her, again. Yes, this was the day. Catelyn walked to meet her Lord husband and pressed herself against him, with his back against the stone wall. She knew he liked it when she grew bolder. He stared at her a little confused and nervous, mayhaps?

She fought back a snort. After almost four years of marriage, he still was startled by her. 

She kissed him hard in the middle of the hall, not minding if one of the servants would catch them, let alone watch her being so brazen. He returned the kiss with more fury. Tongues tangling in battle and passion. By the time she stopped, he was panting hard, trying to gather his breath. 

“Ned.” She said sweetly this time. “I wanted to ask for something. It’s been a while since a properly pray to the Seven. I was wondering if you would build me a small Sept.” She made her request as she left small kisses in his neck. 

She heard him stop breathing before her eyes lift to meet his. Those steely gray eyes stared at her with something she had never seen before. It was not anger, nor it was just lust.  
They stared at each other for what it looked like years. Her clothes were too hot all of a sudden and she felt naked. How could someone make you feel like that? She was prey about to be eaten. She widened her eyes in shock and took a step back. At the same time, this man, not her Lord husband, took one step forward. Before she knew it was her back digging the wall behind her. He was so close, but he wasn’t touching her. The heat emanating from him was scorching.

“Is this the way you go about things my Lady?” He asked, his voice made her shiver and she felt like a cheap whore in the brothel of Winter Town. 

She didn’t know what to say. 

When he finally took the last step to cover her body with his. He already had lifted her skirt and ripped her underclothes. He entered her, and she let out a wail unbecoming of a Lady of a Great House. The next thrust was ever harder and deeper than the last, and she wailed louder. She rested her hands on his shoulder for support, but he was having none of that. He grabbed her hands above her head as he furiously kept thrusting into her. He lifted one of her legs up and about his hips while his other hand kept her steady. His cock was relentless. The heat was building in her core. He had never taken her like this, with such force. She was about to reach her peak, she wanted to cover her mouth, she suspected she would be louder than ever, but her hands were trapped in an iron grip. Ned was not giving her time to breathe. 

As she came undone she heard a howl. It took her a moment to realized it was she who howled like that. And then the man fucking her against the wall chuckled. Was that smugness? 

He kept on ravishing as she spasmed around him. 

He spilled his seed with a snarl.

When he let go of her they both were sweating and panting. He unshed himself from her and fixed his breeches. She did the same thing with her skirt and try to no avail to fix her hair.

“Whenever you want something you asked me directly. No flowering words and no manipulation. I shall let you know my answer.” He told her. 

It was another thing she would have to get used to, being harsh.

“I will build your Sept woman, but why for, you are a wolf now.”

She thought it was impossible to blush any further.

Many moons later she followed him into their chamber, looked him squared in the eyes.

“I want you to fuck me like a cheap whore.” She demanded. 

“Aye.” Ned smiled.


	3. My blood is singing with your voice.

_He can smell the hare bouncing around the deep woods. He hears the soft pads of the animal hitting the ground just as well as the wind caressing the leaves in the high trees he is surrounded by. His stomach is growling with hunger. Quietness is something he can achieve easily. The fat hare is oblivious to him. Silently he jumps in the smaller animal, jaws wide open to give a swift dead. He bites down hard until he can smell the blood._

\------------------------------------------------------------

Robb’s body felt heavy as if rocks laid on top of him. His mouth is dried, swallowing hurt his throat. But what he can sense the most is the hunger. He could have sworn he ate something meaty and delicious moment ago. 

It took him a while to open his eyes when he did his blue eyes were set in a strange roof. These aren’t his chambers. Then he remembered everything. The war, his sisters, the arrow, his father. 

He is invaded with a different kind of pain and for a small fraction of time, he wishes to go back to sleep.

There is a duty to his sisters or just Sansa. Last time he heard about Arya, she was missing. There is a duty to his father, whose death cannot be without justice. He had a mission, something to avenge. Once he cut off Joffrey´s head and rescue his sisters, Sansa, he remembered with pain. He will go back North and rest. All he wanted was for these things to happen, once those things came to be. He would never set foot in the south, nor he will ever let North be part of the Southern farce. He longed for the cold. 

That longing was for later, now. Winter was coming to the south and House Lannister.

Try as he might he couldn’t get off the bed he laid on.

“My Lord.” He heard a sweet shy voice. “You must rest. The wound is not properly healed yet.” She warned him.

He was not alone in this foreign chamber. Moving his head about, looking for the source of the shy voice he found a pair of soft brown eyes with soft chestnut curls framing a delicate face.

He watched her hurry about the chambers, looking for something. She came to him. 

“You have opened your wound, My Lord. Do try to be still or it will never heal.”

She worked on him, but he can’t see the wound she is fussing about. And she kept calling him My Lord. _He is not the Lord of anything._ His father was the Lord of Winterfell. 

He remembered when he was named king. He didn’t want it. But the Northern Lords are stubborn and difficult to deal with, once they make their mind on something, it is far more easy to move The Wall than their will.

He didn’t even want it to be Lord of Winterfell when his father had to travel south because honor was calling him. He wasn’t prepared yet for that task. And here he was, waging a war to save what was rest of his family and bring justice to his father name. More important, his father name had to be cleaned. The weight of the legacy he had to carry on felt heavier than the stones he thought he was buried beneath.

He went back to sleep again and he welcomed it.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had seen her do this many time by now, this time it wasn’t the wound caused by an arrow, but a less mortal cut in his upper arm. It was nothing to worry about, but she had insisted.

While she continued her fussing he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. His blood was still singing from the battle he just fought on. 

She kept on giving him shy smiles.

She applied wine on the cut to clean it and he hissed at the contact.

“Sorry, Your Grace. I should have warned you.” She said lightly as one of her wavy curls fell out place. He reached the loosened hair with his other hand to put it into place. At the contact with its softness, he wondered what it would like to hold the rest of her hair as he bends her over the table and has her. 

She blushed beautifully at his gesture and something inside him snarled. He heard Grey Wing give a loud howl outside his tent. 

Robb crushed his mouth with her. The kissed was all teeth and lips. She moaned throatily when he slipped his tongue in her mouth.

He walked her back until she reached the edge of the table. Sliding his hands to her rear he lifted her to place her on the table. Small frantic fingers began to undo his breeches. Not so shy after all. Good, because he wanted blood.

She let out a small cry when he entered her. Her nails dug down in his shoulder. He held her in place with his hands in a tight grip not caring if come morning there will be handprints in her hips. 

He set up a pace and all he could hear was the small moans coming from her lips. She let go of his shoulder to lean back in the table.

“No.” He growled. He found the flesh between her shoulder and neck. He licked it once to taste her skin. Salty and sweet at the same time. Grey Wind gave another loud howl and at the sound of it he bit down on the skin. He felt her trembled in his hands as a silent cry that only his ear could hear left her lips.

He continued thrusting into her as her his jaw closed down on her flesh. 

It all happened at the same time. Jeyne’s cunt clenching on his cock. Her body and his spine quivering in ecstasy. His seed spilling inside her, his nose smelling her blood and his mouth tasting its coppery content.

He only let her go when he realized what just happened.

They both were panting, her face was flushed, he had beads of sweat running down his back and face. 

His blue eyes widened when he saw the juncture between her neck and shoulder. 

He had bitten her and her skin drew blood because of it. Shame and guilt washed over him. He roamed about the tent until he found a clean wet cloth and began to clean her wound. 

A feeling of possessiveness took over him when he saw the mark of his teeth on her. 

_His._

He continued inspecting what he did. He found drops of blood her skirts.

_Shame on you Robb Stark, Where is your honor?_

“My lady, my most sincere apologies I don’t know what took over me. Will you forgive me.” He begged. 

“I am afraid I most apologies too, Your Grace. What was I thinking? I got carried out too.” Jeyne stuttered shyly. 

Awkwardly she managed to stand on her feet. She was almost outside of his tent when he grabbed by her hand, the same hand of the shoulder he just bit. 

She hissed in pain.

“My Lady, I will speak to your mother in the morrow.”


	4. A Maid Who Is Pure At Heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just letting you know that all of these short stories are within the same universe. They tell one story. 
> 
> Due to Sansa being the victim of sexual abuse, I didn't want to write a sex scene for her. It is difficult for sexual abuse victims to relate to other people in a romantic way or intimate right away. 
> 
> Also, I think I promised you a badass Jon Snow.

She felt suffocated. There were too many people in Winterfell, between all the Northern Lords, The Knights of the Vale, Daenerys Targaryen’s army, who consisted of Unsullied, Dothraki, Knights from all over Westeros, who had sworn their swords to the Dragon Queen upon her arrival at Dragonstone. 

There were many things to be done. She was the lady of Winterfell now, she needed to be a good host, make sure everybody was fed and had enough blankets and pelts to withstand the Northern cold. More people were coming every day, the castle didn’t have enough chambers to accommodate every Lord. She made sure tents were assigned to those who couldn’t fit inside the Stronghold. The only good sign was every house or army had brought his own food and every so often a group of Manderly men would arrive with food the Dragon Queen had ordered from Essos, but still. 

The northern lords weren't happy with Jon’s decision to bend the knee to the Targaryen woman.

The day the lords gathered in the main hall they started to yell. _Foreign woman and Mad king’s daughter,_ were ones of the few words yelled at The Queen. 

The Lords finally settled when Jon hit the table hard enough to make a crater on the old wood. One of the Queen's three dragons roared loudly prompting everybody to cover their ears while Ghost growled and showed his teeth at the Lord who call the Queen s foreign invader. 

She was also wary of the Queen, especially now that the North had achieved its independence. Jon handed the North back to the southern ruler. But she was smart enough not to voice it out loud besides if Jon was right about the White Walker, her armies and dragons were needed. 

She still couldn’t believe that the stories that Old Nan used to tell them when they were children were real. At thought of Old Nan Sansa's eyes became watery, Gods how she wished things went back to what they were. Even now with Arya, Rickon and Bran back nothing will ever be the same. Bran? Was that boy Bran still? He called himself the Three-Eyed Raven. She would like to believe that deep inside her brother was still there.

She remembered when Lord Manderly came from White Harbor with Rickon. He called mother her, and Sansa wanted to break. He looked so much like Robb. Lord Manderly had sent for him and had kept him hidden until the time was right. When the word got out that Jon, and she had taken back Winterfell Lord Manderly sent men to verify that and weeks later he showed up with Rickon. He was feral just like the big black direwolf at his side. 

Later, when everything was settled and words of appeasement were said by Jon, and Daenerys, Sansa went back to inspect the hollow left by Jon’s fist. How was that possible? Oak was strong enough to break a man’s arm, yet her brother left a hollow on it and never saw him once complain about the pain. 

“Lady Sansa?” A deep voice with a southern accent interrupted her thought. She stood straight to face the man. He was tall she noticed, not as tall as Brienne. Pales blue eyes and dark hair. Sansa couldn’t remember to which house was the sigil of a red man with a bow in a green field painted on his breastplate.

“Pardon my lord but I can't seem to recall your name?” He looked pained at her admission. “There are too many people in and outside of Winterfell to remember everybody names.” She clarified.

“I am Dickon Tarly, My lady. My father and I traveled with Queen Daenerys. We swore our house to House Targaryen, just like before Robert took the Throne.”

“Right.” Sansa nodded. “You and you lord father must be very happy to see Sam again.” Sansa inquired.

“I am, my father not so much.” A hint of pain in his voice. 

“Family can be complicated.” She offered. “Lord Tarly how can I help you?” She gave him her best hostess smile and the man blushed a little.

“Actually, I just wanted to thank for your hospitality. And it’s Ser.”

“Sure. Ser Dickon. Your thanks are very well welcome.” The knight bowed his head low and continued his way.

She might not want to have anything to do with the south but could admit that they had nice manners. _Yes, they have nice manners and flowery words and that was exactly how your suffering began. Joffrey had excellent manners and he was evil._

\-----------------------------------------

The day that Bran broke the news that the white walkers manage to breach the wall, all became too real. Bran spoke of giants, bears, and death dire wolves, and many other beasts all of that with an army of one hundred dead, Jon said that they don’t rest, or eat. 

Jon gathered all the Lords to break the news and hasten the preparation for the upcoming battle. 

When the arrangements for the battle were done. Sansa claimed the stairs of the tallest tower she could find and panicked. 

She wanted to cry, she was tired. Tired of smiling, of being in charge, tired of dealing with all the Northern Lords and most of all tired of the constant feeling of dread. A lifetime of battling a monster of all kinds: Cersei, Joffrey, Ramsey, Littlefinger and now the ones in Old Nan’s stories. 

Her chest began to heave wildly and breathing was becoming harder and harder. Sweat broke on her skin. 

She has fought to get her home back. To get her family back and now all could be taken away in the blink of an eye. 

“My lady, are you well? You stormed out of the castle looking rather distressed.” 

Her eyes widened and panicked further at the knowledge of being alone with a man she hardly met. She signaled him to stop with her hands. She needed to gather herself.

It took a long while to begin to breathe properly. She looked back where the knight still stood, waiting for her to calm down. 

“My apologies Ser. It was not my intention to worry you.” She finally said. 

“You don’t need to apologize, My Lady. I just heard the news too. My brother told me of these monsters and how he killed one.”

Sansa nodded at this. 

“But you mustn’t worry, there are plenty of men and Queen Daenerys has three Dragons. I think we have a chance to win. Besides if my brother Sam could kill one I think they are not a worthy foe.” He said half jesting.

That comment brought a smile to her face, and she swore his eyes light up when it happened. 

Sansa studied him, really did, for the first time. He was rather handsome. No. He was really handsome and voice was clean, without malice. 

She walked to where he stood to bury her fingers in his short hair, she whined internally, because it wasn’t long enough to get a good gripe. It didn’t matter now.

She made him leaned forward to meet her lips with his. She felt his hesitation of not knowing what was happening and it was soon forgotten when he joined her in the passioned kiss, lips, teeth and tongues fighting and mingling. 

She flinched when his hands rested on her waist. She stopped the kiss. It seemed that he felt her discomfort. 

“I promise you, my lady, that if you wish to keep kissing I won’t move my hand from your waist.” Sansa was surprised at his honesty. 

She slowly nodded. 

The kiss this time was slower. She was relishing every aspect of it. how great he tasted. The tenderness of his tongue in her mouth. She bit him and he moaned stopping the kiss. 

She couldn’t see blood, but she had tasted it. he touched his lips with his hands. 

“Ser. You promised that won’t move your hands from my waist.” She admonished him between panting.

He went back to kissing her. 

Their bodies were touching but his hands remained in one place. The long kiss only slowed down to breath, but it was never broken. She couldn’t remember how long they were doing this. 

After a while Sansa sensed his hands guiding her back, although the kiss is not broken the distance makes it harder for her to lean forward. 

Finally, the kiss is broken.

Sansa was confused.

“Sorry, my lady, it’s just I didn’t want you to… I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t be doing this... I should have known this was bound to happen….”

Ser Tarly was stuttering. Much like Sam. 

He looked embarrassed and his eyes are looking straight above her head as if he was concentrating on something else.

Sansa sized him up and down. She raised an eyebrow and realized the trouble of Ser Dickon Tarly. 

His cock was erected and he was mortified because of it.

It started like with a small smile until it grew into a full loud laugh. Next thing she knew, she was leaning against the nearest wall, unable to stop herself. Her belly was starting to hurt from the laughter.

Dickon’s embarrassment turned into hurt. She forced herself to stop. He was already walking away from her when she grabbed him by his upper arm.

“Ser. I must apologize. I was not mocking you. But the situation. If only you knew all I have been through. It is difficult to assimilate that I have finally met a true knight right before we are about to die.” She chuckled. 

His face softened at her words. She kissed in the cheeks this time and bid him a good day.


	5. The Beast

The look of disgust on his face was digging a hole in her heart. 

He has been avoiding her for days now. She had tried to speak to him, but somehow, he always found a way to get themselves distracted in other things. Between battle plans and trying to keep the peace between her armies and the northerners.

A few moments ago, she had cornered him in his solar. 

He had just told her that he was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. That they were aunt and nephew that whatever they had needed to stop because it was wrong. But it wasn’t the words that had hurt her the most, it was the look on his face he looked at her like she was the filthiest vermin he has ever had the discontent to step on.

Fighting back tears Daenerys held her head and said the words she never thought she would.

“When this is over and the battle against the dead is won, I am just taking my army south. The northern army will remain here. The north will be independent all but in name.”  
His expression shifted from disgust to surprise. 

“You can’t do this Your Grace; we don’t know how many men will die in this battle to come.” He warned her.

“Even if so, I will only take what rest of my army. I don’t need your help. I have three dragons.”

“Are you planning to take King’s Landing with fire?” 

“Once we defeat the Night King, it will no longer be your concern about how I handle my business.” She replied.

“You’ll need the northern armies.”

“No. I won’t.” 

“I gave you my word.”

“I don’t want it. I can do without you.” She said coldly.  
\--------------------------

After the Warden of the North finished his speech, she leaned forward to light up the funeral pyre and she let herself cried. She cried for her bear who died protecting fighting one of the Night King’s commanders. She cried for all her Dothrakis who perished defending a land that wasn’t theirs, but ungrateful lords who saw them as savages. She cried for the Unsullies who had sworn their lives to her just to sent to death. She cried for how Jon looked at her that day.

She felt a small hand taking hers. Lady Lyanna Mormont was quietly mourning the death of her cousin. She understood that feeling well. As evil as Viserys was to her, she would cry too if somehow, he was returned to her just to be taken away in the next moment. Family is complicated.  
\-----------------------------------------  
  
It was the middle of the celebratory feast. Tyrion sat next to her. The subject to heirs was brought from time to time between her and her Lord Hand. But this time it was she who brought it. With Tyrion’s approval, she proceeded.

“Gendry Waters? Where is Gendry Waters?”

The room went completely silent. Even the Warden of the North turned to look at her. She didn’t look at him back.

The young man in question appeared before her.

“Your Grace?”

“Ser Gendry I was told you are Robert Baratheon’s bastard son.”

Everybody held their breaths; she saw Lady Arya looking at her rather deadly.

“Yes, your Grace. King Robert was my father.”

“I heard you were hunted down by the gold cloaks by order of the false King, Joffrey Baratheon.”

“That too, Your Grace.”

“Before you left in King’s Landing as a smith, working day by day not knowing the softness of a feather bed or rich delicious food. It is not?”

“Whoever told you this was right, your Grace.”

Varys is a handy person to have as your ally.

“Did you know that you and I are kin? Twice over.”

The young change his expression from wariness to confusion. 

“House Baratheon of Storm’s End was founded by Orys Baratheon, King Aegon the Conqueror’s bastard brother and your great grandfather wedded Princess Rhaelle Targaryen.”  
She gave the man time to process this information and turned to Varys.

“Lord Varys who is manning the Storm’s Lands?”

“I believe it is the castellan left by Lord Renly, he is loyal to Cersei Lannister, but rumor has it that most of the people bear fear for the woman and not love.”  
She returned her gaze at the blue-eyed man.

“Gendry if I named you Lord paramour of the Storm’s Lands would you promise to defend it and part justice in the name of House Targaryen?”  
The new soon to be Lord Baratheon was surprised by this news. 

“Yes, your Grace. I would.”

“Kneel Gendry Waters.” The man did as tell.

“I Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm mane you Gendry Waters, Lord Paramount of the Storm’s Lands and Lord of Storm’s End.”

“Rise Lord Baratheon.” She smiled.

She hoped at some point he knew what this meant.

The warden of the North seemed to know what it meant. He looked at her as if his eyes were to spit fire at any given moment.

Try it, Lord Snow. You will see how I don’t burn.  
\-------------------------  
  
A full fortnight went by when she gathered the rest of her armies and her three children. The Stark family stood in the courtyard to say their farewell. The four of them and two gigantic dire wolves. 

One of her unsullied wheeled Lord Bran forward. The young Lord said he wanted to go with her, that his knowledge will be needed in the world she wanted to build. She welcomed him, as she would any that truly wanted to help.

Past the pleasantries, it was the Lady of Bear Island who spoke.

“I don’t understand Your Grace. Why won’t you take our men with you?”

She smiled softly at the young Lady, whom she had a newfound respect for. They both were straight forward women leading men. But Lady Lyanna was more bound by honor than her.

“The north has gone through enough.” Pack of ungrateful children the whole lot. “Besides one of my titles is Protector of the realm. I did my duty.” It was mostly about not wanting to step foot in this place, deal with any of them, especially the Warden of the North, who looked as brooding as ever. Good.

“Her grace does that,” Missandei said interrupting her thought. “While we were in Mereen a great plague swamp the outside of the city, and she went by herself to deliver food and comfort to the sick, risking her life by doing that.” Missandei finished her small speech as she bore her brown eyes on Lady Sansa blue ones.

Something happened here. She will ask later.  
\-----------------------------------------  
She spent the whole trip to Dragonstone feeling nausea. It was strange. She never experimented this while traveling by ship.

Her counsel, now with the addition of Lord Bran or how he sometime addresses himself; the Three-Eyed Raven, had gathered one last time before they landed on Dragonstone.  
She explained to them that she wanted to remove Cersei with little bloodshed as possible. Now that she had heard the news that the woman was with child, she didn’t want her blood in her hands Cersei was also using the people of the city as a shield, the bitch.

“We can try t use the secrets tunnels built by Meagor the Cruel to infiltrate the Red Keep.” Lord Varys said. “But there are so many and if we use the wrong one the whole plan could go awry.”

“I can help with that.” Lord Bran added with a soft smile. She smiled big at him.

Between Tyrion, Varys, and Bran a plan was formed.

It took them a whole moon, Cersei was imprisoned, her hand was beheaded. The giant man who guarded Cersei was the most difficult one to kill. Ten Dothraki brought him down. The gates of the city were opened. Targaryen Banners flew proudly over the outside wall of the red keep and now she stood here in front of her family legacy. The Iron Throne made with all the swords of Aegon the conqueror Enemies. It was an awful looking chair that Daenerys was certain it will be uncomfortable to sit on. the damn chair was twisted and bent, and it had over twenty steps to finally reach its seat.

Nausea flooded her body and she wretched what little she ate on the floor, after that, everything went black.

She awoke in feathered bed, Missandei at her side. Her friend beamed in happiness when she opened her eyes.

“Your Grace good news, wonderful news. You are with child.”

“That cannot be Missandei I am cursed.”

The Maester and the Dothraki healer both confirmed it, they think you are over three moons turn old." Her friend announced.

Daenerys had to lean against the mahogany bedrest, thinking how was that possible. Then, she thought of the moment of the possible conception. She spent a moon in the sea it took another to take King’s Landing. It must have been in the first days of their arrival to Winterfell when he was teaching him to ride Rhaegal. That fact that her dragons had taken to like to him should have evidence enough that Jon Snow was not a simple man. 

Rhaegal was being difficult, so Jon had to land in a small clearance between the armies. When he was able to control Rhaegal, he landed in from of everybody. It was morning so, she was making the rounds on her several armies. Rhaegal lowered his head, finally giving her a view of the man on top of her child. He was looking at everybody while their collective breath was held for a moment it felt as if Jon could say the words and swipe them with fire. He looked murderous, lethal and delectable. The only thing she could compare him to was the image her brother Viserys planted in her head of how fearsome was Aegon the conqueror in his quest to unite the Seven Kingdoms under his command.  
She rode him hard that night.

\----------------------  
The birthing was trying, a fortnight before the healer and the Maester had told her they were twins. It lasted hours from the moment her water broke until little Alysanne was born, followed by Rhaeddard. Her two beautiful babies. She laughed and cried that day. 

Tyrion had insisted on letting the Warden of the north know about the birthing of his children. Daenerys refused vehemently. She would not expose her children to Jon Snow stare.

\--------------  
  
It was after the twins six moons turn, she was having a meeting with her counsel and some Lords of the Crown Lands, they were discussing the subject of building a better sewer system for the City.

Missandei scurried into the room without interrupting the meeting and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widen at Missandei words. 

“My Lords I am not feeling well; I am afraid we will have to continue this meeting on the morrow. Lord Hand, Lord Bran and Lord Varys you can stay.”

The rest of the Lords leave the room without complaint.

“Who told him?” Daenerys asked in a quiet fury.

“Who among you betrayed me?” She roared this time.

The three men looked at each other not knowing what was happening.

“Your Grace, he keeps shouting he will tear down the Red Keep brick by brick if we don’t let him in.”

“Who are you talking about?” Tyrion asked.

“Jon Snow, My Lord.”

"Oh. It seemed the word got out.” The Hand on the Queen sat back and sipped from his goblet of wine.

“My Queen what should we do?”

“Let him in. Take him to the Throne Room. Have Grey Worn and only Grey Worn escorting him. The rest of you come with me.”

She will show him the vermin.  
  
She sat in the Iron Throne looking ever Queenly. She had lost most of the fat she gained while she was carrying the children. Her gown was a flowing light lilac dress in an Essosi fashion Tyron stood at her right, Rakharo at her left, Missandei and Lord Bran were further on the sides.

She nodded to let him in.

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn, house Targaryen Queen of The Andals, The Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven...”

“Daenerys.” He snarled, not letting Missandei finish. “Where are my children Daenerys?”

How dare him to come to her house and not even addressing her with respect. She observed him. If it wasn’t for the fact that his face was clean, she would swear he just came out of the battle.

“Daenerys.” He bellowed again.

She cursed herself internally. Why did she always have to go for men like him? He claimed he didn’t like to do what he was good at, but by how he killed the Night King she begged to differ. He killed two of his commanders before he turned his sight on the Night King. She had seen Khal Drogo, her blood riders and Daario fight, never something quite like this, as if the man never knew rest. 

When Missandei told her, he was threatening to tear down the Keep she believed it. From the last Lord Commander of The Night Watch, she heard how once Jon Snow throttled a man bigger than him. That after the attack of the wildings giant arrows were impaled deep in the wall and in the ground and Jon took one out as if it were nothing, while three men struggled with just one. Sansa had told her that during the battle of the bastard, Ramsey charged all his men at him and Jon stood his ground alone sword in hand, ready to attack.  
As she made her way down to meet the man, she wondered if her brother Rhaegar had any idea of the result of wedding Lyanna Stark. Was he waiting for this beast of a man?  
This damned chair had too many steps. She couldn’t wait to get rid of it. but it has its uses, for now.

She finally made to the Warder of the North. “How dare you speak to me like this? I am your Queen.”

The fury and fire he was oozing was almost palpable. His dark grey eyes filled with anger. Nose flaring, those plush lips in a straight line. He wasn’t the tallest man by any mean, but he managed to look menacing anyway. 

“Queen?” He said in his thick northern accent. “Right now you are nothing but a petulant child.” He cornered her into one of the pillars of the keep, in the corners of her eyes she saw Grey Worn and Rakharo ready to defend her. She stopped them with a sign of her hand. 

“Aye, you do that.” He warned her. 

“What are you doing here Jaeherys?” She spat his real name. 

“I came here to see my children.” 

“So, you can look at them the same way you looked at me, like the filth of the known world.” As soon as the words leave her mouth his face showed pain. Are you feeling ashamed Jon Snow?

“Daenerys, where are my children? Take me to them.” He said softly this time but with the same anger in his eyes.

“How do even know they are yours?”

“I never took you for a whore. The boy has the Stark coloring.”

“They could be Bran’s.” She heard the aforementioned Lord laugh. 

“Daenerys quit the nonsense and show me my children.”

She moved from the pillar he had walked to and signaled him to follow her.

They arrived at the nursery and nursemaid was with the children. She was organizing the room while the twins slept.

“Your Grace I just put them to bed.”

“That’s fine Soara, we will be silence, you can wait outside. This little Princess is Alysanne, she was the first to be born, she has a temper.” Daenerys smiled. The babe was fussing while sleeping, she often did that. Their hair had grown a lot in the last six moons, and it was obvious now their Targaryen and Stark features.

“The little Prince is Rhaeddard.” Jon looked at in surprise at the name she chose. 

“You named him after both my fathers.”

“No. I named them after two honorable men.”  
\------------------------------------------  
  
Jon has taken to take care of the twins while he was in the keep. Whenever he wasn’t with the children he was training in the courtyard or sneaking to fly Rhaegal. He thought she didn’t know. All the while they have only exchanged a few words, most of it regarding the twin or the city.

“If you are here who manning the North?" She asked him while he played with Aly.

“Sansa.”

“Isn´t she betrothed to the Lord of High Garden?”

“Yes, she is but has delayed the wedding until Rickon is out of age. How do you who is Sansa betrothed to? You said you would not interfere in northern affairs.”

“She is to wed one of my subjects, it concerns me.” 

“Are you afraid, the Starks are gaining more power than you? The north, High Garden. By the looks, Lord Baratheon gives to my little sister, Storm’s End and now you have two in King’s Landing.”

“Why, My Lord, Should I be afraid of trying to take my crown? You could do that?” She sang song.

“So, I gained the whole of Westeros as my enemies, no thank you.”  
  
A merchant from Braavos was in town to discuss trade, she was trying hard to get the best trading prices, so she put in her best dress. A one-shoulder gown that concealed her breasts by the layering of the fabric with a naked back and flowing skirt, the fabric was so light that it made look like she was floating as she walked. If it was up to her, she would throw the man in the Dragonpit just with Viserion and kept him there until she got what she wanted. 

Before the dinner with Braavosi merchant, she went to the nursery to check on the twins. She found Jon holding little Rhae in his shoulders, while Aly slept.

The moment he noticed her presence he locked his eyes on her. 

“That’s a very nice dress.”

“You like it? I have dinner with Ferrys from Braavos.”

“Is Tyrion going to be present?”

“No.”

“Don’t you think is a little cold?”

“No, besides your brother told me that winter will be a lot shorter now that the Night King is dead.” She walked out of the feeling Jon Snow eyes on her naked back.  
  
The man was finally backing down as he flirted back relentlessly to her. He even had a golden tooth that remained her of Daario and true to be told the man was an excellent conversationalist, he had many stories just like her. It didn’t hurt that the man wasn’t hard to look at.

She was sipping wine when Jon entered the room and sat on the chair next to Ferrys, she almost spat her wine.

“My apologies, sorry I am late.” He motioned the serving maid to serve him wine and make him a plate. 

Farrys is as surprised as her, but she is trying to control her temper and not ruined what she just accomplished.

“Your Grace, I didn’t know we will have company. Who do I owe the pleasure?”

“Ferrys, this is Jon Snow the Warden of the North.”

Jon was eating up the content of his plate. 

“What brings you here Lord Snow?”

“I’m here for my children.”

“Have I met your children?” Ferrys asked with curiosity.

“Perhaps, Princess Alysanne and Prince Rhaeddard.”

“Your Grace I didn’t know you were wedded.” Ferrys turned to look at her.

“I am not.”

“In westerosi fashion that would make your child…”

Before the man could finish, Jon had a knife pressing down against the man throat.

“I dare you to finish that sentence.” 

“Jon put the knife down.” She roared. Jon pushed the knife harder into the man. He was looking feral and Ferrys was trembling in fear in his chair.

“Who is the child now Jon Snow? Put the knife down.”

Begrudgingly he let the man go.

Daenerys had to apologize with the merchant a thousand times.  
\---------------------------  
  
After hours of looking for Jon, she found him brooding in one of the many balconies of the Red keep. 

“Do you have any idea of what you have done? I will be lucky if Ferrys wants to even consider making a deal with the crown. Business with that man means cheaper commodities for the small folk and now it’s in jeopardy because of your wounded pride.” She yelled at him.

He finally turned and his dark eyes flashed red. She found herself against the wall. His mouth crashed against her furiously. She moaned loudly when his tongue invaded her mouth and fire spread through her body. Daenerys buried her fingers in his dark hair. Her mind was fogged by the attack on her senses. Wait. Over a year ago this man was looking at you with distaste. She remembered those unyielding dark eyes. Daenerys pushed him away resenting the lack of warmth. 

“What do you think you are doing? You can’t just kiss me because you want Jon?” 

“Aye, I can, and I will.”

He crushed his lips with hers.

When Daenerys brain started functioning again. Jon had put her down in the middle of her chambers and began undressing. His eyes were filled with burning lust. She was breathing hard under his stare.

“On the bed, on your hand and knees.” She obeyed. He lifted the skirt. As if was possible, she got wetter the noise of the fabric ripping. She felt hot moist dripping down the back of her thigh.

“You are no wearing small clothes.” She heard Jon’s low voice. Jon entered her with one swift thrust and her whole body shuddered and a drowned yell escaped her mouth.

Years ago, this position used to bring her bad memories, but a moon’s turn in the sea sharing the bed with Jon he had told to be like this, she braced herself for it. She was a dragon, not a weak woman, she would endure. She closed her eyes tight waiting for it. Her eyes flew wide open when Jon had stuck his tongue in her cunt.

She felt his naked strong legs in the back on her thighs. His calluses fingers digging deep in her hips and Jon hard cock drilling inside and out of her was driving her mad. She mewled like a common whore, it only invited him to go deeper and harder. She continued with fast pacing. Other men when fucking her this fast was a sign that they were going to finish, not Jon. Her cunt clenched around him, and she thought she could take him with her as she used the trick Dorreah taught her years ago. Wrong move Stornborn. 

Jon kept going harder and deeper but painfully slow. Her body began to quiver in pleasure, she screamed his name. Even after the initial release, he continued to thrust into her. Another heath was building inside her. She lowered her face inside the pillow and moaned loudly into it. The beast kept going. Daenerys wasn’t sure if she was receiving enough air. 

“Too much pleasure your Grace?” He asked her from behind.

Dany could only nod.

“Worry not, I will balance it out.”

She heard the spank before she felt it. It was a strange yet not unwelcome sensation, her release mixed with the pain of the spank, she was sure was going to leave a deep red northern hand print in her arse.

When she finally came down from her high. Mind all confused from the new sensation a single word escaped her lips.

“Why?” She sounded like a cat in heat.

“Why? What you did has no name. You denied me of my children. Since I can’t fight you, I will fuck you Dany.” 

It dawned on her; Jon was punishing her. 

“Now, be silence, woman. We are making a third dragon rider. This one will be bound in marriage.”

He gave one last thrust before he turned around on her back with her legs high in the air at both sides of his head. He trusted into her again but didn’t move. Her eyes were closed focusing on feeling the sensations. 

“Dany open your eyes. He begged, his breath on her face. 

She did and found two dark eyes looking at her, he looked sad. 

“Forgive me Dany, I should never have treated you the way I did. I was confused and I didn’t handle thing in the best way possible. If you have me, I will spend the rest of my days making up for how I made you feel. Would you forgive?”

Would she forgive him? He was buried deep inside her in more ways than he could know.

“Yes.” She managed weakly. He kissed her passionately, his tongue mimicking what his cock was doing to her cunt.  
\---------------------------------  
  
She had forgiven him, but it still annoyed her all the liberties he has taken. The night their betrothal was announced, to Tyrion’s pleasure, Jon had walked into her chamber and began to undress.

“What are you doing? We won’t be fucking tonight I am still sore from yesterday.” 

“We don’t have to do anything. We could just sleep. In the north wedded couples share chambers.”

“We’re not in the north.”

“You are to wed a north man.”

“We´re not wedded yet.”

“We are, by free folk laws.” 

“You’re not free folk.”

“They chose me as their leader I am one.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Aye, you are a Khaleesi, we had fucked under the stars. We’re a wedded.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” She told him between narrowed eyes.

“Aye.”


	6. Fearless On My Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys, sorry for the delay. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.

The dreams started when she was on the road to King’s Landing. Jon decided to stay in the Capital, with Queen Daenerys and the children. The northern lord's opinions on Jon's decision were mixed. When they heard the children were half Starks most of the concluded it was the right thing for the former King to be with his pups. Others wandered how would this play in the influence of the south in the north. there were even one or two who were almost proud that someday a northerner would sit in the Iron Throne. 

Jon had sent for Ghost, she had volunteered alongside Sam, Gilly and other three northern men. 

After passing the neck the dreams began. 

She would often find herself close to the ground, sniffing around and hunting hares and stags. A pack of regulars’ wolves would follow her around. 

The last time she had one of these dreams she was blinded for disobeying an order of the House of Black and White. 

Since there was a small party it only took a little over a fortnight to reach the crown lands. The night before they broke camp. Ghost began to whine and nudge her with his nose.

“What happens Ghost?” The dire wolf guide to a small clearance, after a while Arya heard a rustling around her. Soon she was surrounded by a pack of wolves, but none of them made a move to attack her. She wasn’t afraid either. Ghost was at her side and so was Needle. 

A loud howl broke the silence and all the wolves receded. Heavy steps behind her got away the giant animal. Another direwolf, almost as big as Ghost. 

“Nymeria?” Arya heard herself say.

The direwolf bared its teeth at her. Arya was not the begging type, but she begged to the Gods for Nymeria to recognize her. Put her hand in the air as a sign of surrender Arya waited. It pained many years ago to cast her friend away just so she would be free from Joffrey, Arya deep down knew the wolf would never hurt her, but she understood if Nymeria would feel resentment towards her. 

Ghost went by Arya’s side and bared his teeth back at the She-wolf. Slowly but surely Nymeria backed down until she was on the ground. 

Arya moved with trepidation to pet the she-wolf, but Nymeria’s big head avoided her hand. 

“I understand my friend” 

Arya wanted to hug like she used to do, but she wasn’t going to force it. 

“I see you have a new pack with you.”

Nymeria huffed at Arya remark. Arya saw Ghost sniffing his sister and wagging his tail happily. 

“I would leave you two to it then.” These direwolves weren’t simple animals, they were smart and by the dreams she had while she was away, she knew they shared a strong bond.  
___________________________________

Staying at King’s Landing was not as painful as she imagined. She lost her father in this city. When she went through the remains of Sept Baelor, she thought it was fitting that the place where her father died was blown to smithereens. Why would a place where such atrocity was committed still stand? As Arya saw it, the day her father died with a lie in his lips was the day Westeros began to bleed. A high price was paid for the death of an honorable man. 

She took pleasure in knowing that Sansa, even unbeknown to her, was part of Joffrey’s death. The day she killed Littlefinger she slept better. When she poisoned every Frey was another great night of fitful sleep, she didn’t even go by her list. She just remembered Lord Walder Frey face as it dawn on him that all the men in his family were dying in front of him and that he had merrily gulped down one of his grandchildren, the utter terror in his eyes as he saw the last of them die and she whispered Winter has come right before she cut his throat. 

And yet, Cersei Lannister didn’t die by her hands. A rumor reached Winterfell that Cersei went mad after she gave birth to a girl. Queen Daenerys had sentenced her confinement with a Dothraki maid for companionship a regulated visit by Jaime and the babe. In the beginning, Arya thought Queen Daenerys was being extremely soft with the woman. Then Sansa asked how she felt when she was at then Twins close to Mother and Robb, knowing what was happening but not being able to do anything about it. Arya remembered that feeling and then remembered Lord Walder’s despair. Having nothing, not even vengeance. 

“Imagine that Arya, feeling that hopelessness for the rest of your life.” She looked at her sister and knew Sansa felt like that at one point. Arya shivered. Queen Daenerys was more vicious than her. At least she gave Lord Frey the gift of death. 

“Little sister.” Jon's voice interrupted her thoughts. She had arrived at the Red Keep a moon ago. 

There were many reasons Arya come to the Capital, she missed her big brother, she wanted to see twins. 

Jon was carrying little Alysanne, who along with Prince Rhaeddard were about to turn one name day. 

“Look Aly, Aunt Arya. She will teach Water Dancing when you're older.” They squealed in happiness. The babe has taken a likening to her. 

“Where is Red?” 

“He is eating right now the nursemaid and Dany are with him.”

“I still can’t believe you’re a father.” Arya offered.

“Sometimes I can’t believe myself.” Jon Admitted. I can’t believe any of this. “I swore a vow against being everything I am now. It seems as if the Gods had different plans for me.”

“Well, the Dragon Queen is certainly breaking the wheel with a bastard for a husband, let alone as King.” Little Aly began to babble. 

“Arya, about that. There is something that you should know.” Her brother's face went serious. 

“Eddard Start was not my father.” Her eyebrows deep in confusion. “Well, he was my father, just not the man who begot me. When Sam was at The Citadel, he found a marriage certificate of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. They were wedded Arya, Rhaegar never kidnaped Lyanna.” 

“Well, good, what does any of that had to with you?”

“They were my mother and father. Arya. My mother named me Jaeherys. My Father, Lord Eddard, named me Jon.”

Arya internal turmoil made hand little Aly back to Jon. “W..what?” 

“Father lied to the realm and sullied his name to protect me from Robert’s wrath.”

“Father never sullied his name.” Arya countered him with little rage. “He did the honorable thing. He protected his pack.” Arya took a step back. “Wait how do you know you are the product of Aunt Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar?” She asked skeptically.

“Bran saw it. He saw when Lyanna and Rhaegar wedded. He saw when I was born and how Lyanna begged Father to protect me.” 

Arya knew his brother Bran was powerful, but no to this extent, looking into the past. 

“This means you are the rightful King of Westeros.” Arya rationalized. 

“No, it makes me the heir to the Iron Throne, but it belongs to Dany, she is the one that has a better vision for the future.”

“But when you wed the Queen, won’t that make you the King.”

“Aye, but only because I wed her. Had anyone else told you about my parents, would you believe it?”

“No,” Arya responded right away. Why would anyone on Westeros believe it?

“Exactly.”

“But what will your role be?”

“I will give my advice when she needs one. I will command the armies if necessary.”

“Your aunt.” Arya pondered in the situation. “You are a Targaryen, lusting after her.” Jon's face went red. “We all knew you were fucking the Dragon Queen.”  
_____________

A moon after he departed Winterfell, he arrived at Storm’s End in the company of some of the Lords of the Region that supported Queen Daenerys’ Claim to the iron throne. He was dressed in the finest clothes he had ever worn. A Baratheon Banner flew proudly in front of the caravan. Davos rode at his side. As soon as Queen Daenerys named Lord of the Stormlands, he sought the old man for help. 

The weather at storm’s end was how Davos told, even in spring, the wee hours of the morn there was fog all over the land. Cold and dampness. Not as cold as the north. He could smell the salt of the sea mist. The was a lightning storm the night before and the wind almost blew out their tents. Some knight joked that the sea god and his wife, the wind goddess knew he was approaching and gave him a proper welcome.

The Onion Knight insisted on Gendry learning his letters. He knew a few from working on Tobho Mott’s armory.

His arrival was as well as it could go for an unknown bastard recently legitimized by a new queen that didn’t have the support of the Castellan of the Stronghold. But even before Davos announced that Cersei was no longer the Lady Regent of Westeros, Lord Harkyn Sondell, couldn’t deny he was the son of Robert Baratheon. The small man looked at him as if he had seen a ghost. As the rest of the lords, ladies and small folks whispered around him. 

“He looks just like lord Renly. That boy is Robert come again.”

Lord Sondell stood in front of the gates.

“Queen Cersei may no longer be the Lady of the Seven Kingdom, but that does not make you the lord of this castle. That doesn’t make a Baratheon.” He shouted in front of everybody willing to hear. 

Some of the Storm knights and lord who pledged for Queen Daenerys and by extension him came out from the back.

“Don’t you have eyes, old man. This is lord Baratheon, your liege lord.” 

“Aye, he has the Baratheon look, but that does not make him the lord of the castle. That’s just making him a bastard.” Lord spat with a mix of disgust and rage.  


This was not the first time Gendry heard these words, he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. He would like to believe he wasn’t an evil man, perhaps it was like that. He never harbored hatred for those who didn’t wrong him in the first place. Sure, as soon as he saw Sir Dondarion and Thoros de Mir, he wanted to spill their guts with his hammer, but he saw the bigger picture and swallowed his anger. In the end, they both died, not by his hand, and he didn’t feel anything.

During his stay in the North, he learned that sometimes you must make an example to be heard and to be obeyed. The way he saw these were his lands, not only because Queen Daenerys legitimized him, but because he was Robert Baratheon’s son. The people of the Storm lands were his people. His people didn’t want this man. That much was obvious by the report he received from Varys’ birds. The man took advantage of the fact that most men were dead because of the wars and only small children and women were left. While in the Riverlands he saw firsthand  
what War in the hand of a merciless Lord could do. 

Cersei had given Lord Sondell and small fortune and soldiers to defend the castle. Rumor has it that Lord Sondell fancied himself the future Lord of the Storm’s Lands. 

Gendry got off his horse and walked toward the man. His Warhammer felt unusually heavy in his back. He removed it and held it with one hand. At this point, it felt like an extension of himself.

“Lord Sondell in the name of Queen Daenerys first of her name, Lady of the Seven Kingdom and rest of the title, I, Gendry Baratheon, Lord Paramour of the Stormlands to open those and let me in.” He looked at Davos for approval, not sure if he had all titles rights. The Onion knight gave him a small nod.

“How dare you bastard? To order me what to do. You are nothing more than the example of your father’s whore mongering ways. You should have put to the knife with the rest of your bastards’ brothers and sisters.”

Gendry used the War hammer to back the man against the Gates. “M’lord, you have nothing. 

"Your queen is gone she died a few weeks ago. The only three Lannister alive has sworn to Queen Daenerys. We could do this by peace and let me in or I could kill you right now and I still will get in. Your life is in your hands.” Gendry pushed the weapon further into the man’s throat. Tired eyes looked him back thinking what to do next. 

“Open the Gates the man shouted.”

“Good thinking.” 

The gates swung open. Giving him the full view of the stronghold. A huge tower in the center of the castle. Smooth pale grey stone all around. 

As he stepped foot into the courtyard, he felt a movement behind him. Quick as lighting he swung the hammer into the man head. 

“I didn’t want to do that.” He whispered to himself. 

“Fine. Since some people are hard of hearing. Who else here has a problem with my claim?”  
¬¬______

It took him a moon to settle and another moon to compensate the knights for their help in Winterfell. Davos told him that moons will come and gone by before something resembling stability would start to show.

Petitions, so many petitions.

He relied on Davos for almost anything. He knew shit about running a castle, let alone a stronghold like. 

More moons went by when he received a raven with the royal seal in it.

Jon Snow, the bastard son of the late Lord Stark of Winterfell, former King in the North was to wed Queen Daenerys and he was invited to the wedding.

Damn him to seven hell, he was barely managing as it is. And now he had to attend a Royal  
Wedding and rob shoulder with the mighty high of Westeros. 

_____________________  
Jon and Queen Daenerys told her it was a small affair. The crown didn’t have the coin for a grand wedding. They had invited all the great houses of Westeros, but only because they knew that if some lord was not asked to attend it could bring consequences in the future. Arya hated politics. They should have just wed. Daenerys didn’t believe in any gods and Jon just needed a Heart Tree. They did ask to travel light, no more than three people per house. 

Arya was currently sparring with Grey Worn. It was who she least expected to make fast friends with. Maybe it was because he was a man of few words and highly skilled. He was teaching her how to use a long spear. 

The courtyard was filled with knights, Dothraki and unsullied, all training or going about their tasks. She was wearing breeches and a loose shirt that belonged to Jon. She had to cut the damn thing so it will not reach her knees. Bathed in sweat like never. She had only trained in water dancing and could go against a Westerosi knight, but a long spear was a different weapon and required another set of skills. She skipped a thrust on her right shoulder when she felt eyes on her back. 

She got distracted when she made a turn and found a pair of cerulean blue eyes watching her. Grey Worn took advantage of her distraction and stroke her in her feet making her stumbled down on the ground. 

“Never take eyes off opponent.” The Captain reminded her.

“I know that.” She told him with her back on the ground. She maneuvered a flip and found herself on her feet. 

“Tomorrow we continue.” Grey Worn announce to which Arya nodded in agreement. 

She had a flagon with water hanging in one of the hooks. She grabbed and took a swig of it while she walked towards the new lord of the Stormlands. 

The last time she saw him was at Winterfell almost a year ago. Days after he knelt before her and asked to wed him. Arya had to look hard for words to say no without breaking his heart. She found none.

“You’re here for Jon’s wedding.” It wasn’t a question. She had to lift her head to look at him in the eyes. He was tall, only the hound and the Mountain were taller than him. 

“Aye, I am, My Lady.” He said boring his eyes on hers. He stood straight, relaxed yet firm. In the past, he would lean a little to speak to her. Now he just merely cast his eyes down on hers.  
His guard was up. She searched his eyes for animosity but there was none. 

“Lady Arya.” The onion knight greeted her. Arya completely forgot the old man was next to Gendry. 

“Ser Davos. How do you fare?” She greeted back with a small smile looking at the man. All the while Gendry eyes were set on her. 

“I fare well, My Lady.” 

She was about to say something when they were interrupted by Lady Missandei. 

“My Lords welcome to the Red Keep, Lord Snow would join you later, so will Queen Daenerys, they are at a meeting with the Small Council. In the meantime, I will show you your chambers.”

“Very well my lady, lead the way.” Ser Davos said.

Arya watched the three of them head towards Maegor Holdfast. 

She saw the big wolf resting at the foot of her bed. Nymeria had slowly warmed up to her. A week after their first encounter the Ghost returned from hunting with Nymeria in tow. 

_She dreamt she was running in the woods hunting and Ghost was at her side. After a while of hunting down the moose and eaten it, satiated the hunger. The heat took over her and started to rub against her brother's fur._

Arya woke up with a jolt in her bed. She could feel the taste of blood in her tongue and wetness between her legs.

The next day she found Lord Baratheon on the courtyard fighting a knight. She had seen him fight in Winterfell. He has gotten better since. War hammer was heavy, yet he wielded it with grace and force. Arya stood there watching as Gendry and the Knight sparred. The melee was getting attention from onlookers, men and women were as engrossed in the fight and she was. Some handmaids started to swoon. Arya rolled her eyes in annoyance. Grey worn stood by her side. 

“The Storm Lord is good. Want to fight now?” He asked with his ever-serious face. Arya wondered if he ever smiled. If he did it was only reserve for Lady Missandei.

She forgot about the fight, grabbed one long spear and began to train with the Captain of the Unsullied. 

She found him in the hall that led to her Chamber and his chambers too. The sun was still up, so the rays of sunshine sipped through the glass. He was as sweaty as her. His hair although short was disheveled, even in the dim light his eyes still shone bright blue. 

He stopped in front of her. Arya felt the same heat she felt the night before, something wild, similar when she wore her direwolf skin and run free through the woods hunting and small animal. She was too aware of her surroundings. She could hear his breathing and the hollow breeze coursing through the empty hall. She smelled the sweat and musk from his body. He trained today too. Her eyes traveled all over his figure. She felt her jaw slowly opening. Her mind was fog with a kind of hunger she had never felt before. It remained her of Nymeria's bloodlust.

“My lady.” Gendry greeted her breaking the trance she was in. Arya gulped down air she didn’t know she was holding. She was going mad. She was not a wolf, not in the real sense. She remembered her father's words many years ago. 

_You have a touch of wolf blood in you._

“My lady.” He said again, annoyed for her nonresponse.

“Don’t call me that again.” Was her immediate reaction. He gave her a sloppy smile.

“As M’lady commands.” He said playfully. She lifted her hands to push him into the ground as she did before, but this time when she did. He didn’t move an inch. His face was serious again as the day in the courtyard. His guard was up. 

Arya’s blood began to boil. Stupid men, all of them. She huffed and continued walking to her chambers, leaving Gendry by himself in the hall.

Stupid bull. 

_________________________________

Gendry shot the door with a slam behind him. He wondered how come a person so smart could be so unaware of the effect she had on him. 

From the moment he first saw her on Winterfell as he arrived with Jon and the Dragon Queen, he would find a path to her, and whenever those steely grey eyes set on him, he would shiver.

He spent his days working on the forge. She would appear while he hammered away and the impossible happened. The forge got hotter. She would request him to make a weapon for her.  
He had seen her train before in Winterfell he marveled at the elegance of the movements and the fluidities. Wondered if he will ever be that good.

Queen Daenery's questions to him before she named Lord of the Stormlands made him uneasy. 

The way that she had looked at him, as if she was measuring him for something he was probably not good enough. Then she referred to him as kin. Later that night, right after he asked for Davos’ help. The Onion Knight asked him if he understood what just happened. As the stupid man he was, he shook his head. Davos explained to him that Queen Daenerys had named him heir of the Iron Throne. Gendry felt the ground moved and in the middle of the cold northern winter, he sweated. 

That night his emotions were all over the place. He thought that perhaps this Lordship and burden the Queen put on him would be enough and he proceeded to do the most stupid thing he will probably do in his entire life. 

He found her practicing with a bow and arrow. He knelt before her and asked her to wed him. He would ask Jon later, but first, he wanted Arya’s answer.

She was there when the Queen named him Lord she knew.

After a while he heard the words that would remind him once again that he was nothing but a stupid bastard, not matter if he ever sat on the Iron Throne, nothing would erase the fact he was an uneducated bastard boy undeserving of the attention of her lady high.

“I am happy for you Gendry, but I won’t wed you.”

After that night he avoided her and now that he had to see her, he was very aware of how he carried himself around her. Even if he wasn’t born into it. He was the Lord of Storm’s end he would not be humiliated once again. By anybody.

A week went by, she would train with Grey Worn. Arya was already seeing to convince one of the Dothraki to teach her to use the Arakh, at sundown she would ask Missandei if she wasn’t too busy to teach her Dothraki. Some nights the curly-headed woman would tell her stories about Essos. She would listen enthralled. Missandei was great at telling stories. 

The rest of the Keep moved considerably normal for hosting a Royal Wedding in less than a fortnight. Well, Jon had insisted it would be a small affair. 

Jon and Daenerys would go about their day as normal as possible, a boring gathering every day, sometimes Gendry attended to it. The Queen would hold petitions. Jon would spar, somedays with Gendry. She would watch since she was always in the training yard. The maids would swoon at them. Arya would roll her eyes. She was afraid she would go blind again because her eyeball would stay that way. The maids would stop whispering and giggling about Jon if the Queen came near. But giggling about Gendry would continue, and on. Thank the gods that Missandei would soon find them something to do.

Gendry and she would find each other in the hall of Meagor Holdfast. She was considering asking Missandei to move her to the Maiden Vault. 

:______________________________  
One day she was getting bore and she needed a break from doing the same thing every day. Arya took her bow and a set of arrows, her knife, clean water and headed to the Kingswood. It was early in the morning when she began to hunt. She used every technique she learned in the House of Black and White. She went deep into the wood and sat in the middle of the wilderness. She closed her eyes and used her other senses. She heard everything in the woods that was at her ears range. Hours passed and she heard it. Steps. She followed the noise after an hour of hunting down the animal. It was a small deer. She scrunched down as close to the ground as possible. 

She tried to hit the animal with her arrows, but the little runt was fast. 

Something else moved to her left and she lost the arrow to the bigger animal. As soon as the arrow hit its target, she heard the hiss. A very manly hiss. 

She followed the string of curses, finding The Lord of Storm End.

“What are you doing here?” Arya shouted at him.

“Being hit by an arrow. I am fine in case you’re askin’.”

“Of course, you are. It is only a scratch.” She bit back. She was close enough to see that the tip of the arrow had risen his left leg. A thin string of blood running down damping his breeches. 

“Are you following me?” she asked him.

“What? Not. What would I do that?”

“I don’t know. What are you doing here anyway?” She pressed the question again.

“The same as you, I think.”

“Sure thing.”

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“Yes, I do,” Arya said incredulously. “It just happens to be on the same day I go out to hunt.”

“This is the second day I came to hunt. I am not following you.” 

“You didn’t come to hunt yesterday.”

“I see you are the one that’s following my every movement. And I did come to hunt yesterday. It was early in the morning.” He told her as he cleaned the scratch on his leg. It had stopped bleeding.

Arya regarded him in full. “Are you here alone?” 

“No, I’m not. We are three. My two squires are far in that direction.”

Arya’s laughed began with mirth. Her laugh was so loud the birds in the trees flown to all directions. 

“You have squires? You?” Arya pointed his finger looking at him. “Are you even a knight?” She was bent over herself and her stomach was beginning to hurt. She didn’t know why but the idea of the Gendry of all people with squires made her laugh. She had seen him fight. He was getting better now. He was a disaster while they were traveling through the Riverlands and he was acceptable at Winterfell. 

Her laugh subsided when she felt his heated presence beside her. She stood straight holding his gaze. He was uncomfortably close now. She felt the warmth coming from his body. She felt small. She never felt small.

“I was named Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill.” 

“Who named you?”

“Ser Beric.”

“The same man who sold you.” Arya saw him winced. “Tell me, Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill was this right before you left me?”

“I didn’t leave you. You were going to see your family. The moment the two of us entered your brother camp I doubt we would see each other again.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“You are a Lady, Arya. I was just a bastard boy from King’s Landing. I had no place talking to you back then. I made what I thought was the right choice.”

“Leaving me to fend for myself?”

“Not. Arya, I let you go, because there was no place for me to be next to you.”

“You are the most stupid person I know.”

“Aye, I am stupid. It was not enough for my Lady high that the Queen named me Lord of Storm’s End. I am still a bastard in your eyes.”

“What?! You stupid, stupid bull, you think that I care that you are a fancy lord now. You could be the fucking King of Westeros and I still wouldn’t care. I thought you were my friend.”

“That’s the thing Arya, as long as I am only your friend, I am good enough, but I don’t want to be your friend.” 

Arya's anger rose if possible. Why? Why? Couldn’t they just be friends? Why of all people would he choose her to be his wife?

Arya was about to open her mouth to say something when Gendry assaulted her lips. His lips were firm and unyielding. She fought him at first. He grabbed by her face with both his hands and didn’t release her. She scratched his hands with her nails, but he wouldn’t budge. 

The kissed turned slower and she found herself moving in with him. his tongue was sliding from side to side begging for her mouth to open after a while she let it happen, her body shuddered at the sensation. He walked to the nearest tree and pinned her against it. They stopped kissing only to watch each other breath in exertion. His eyes never leaving her. The sensation she had when they met in the hall of Maegor’s Holdfast was returning to her. Bloodlust. It was her time to attack. In a swift movement, Arya jumped on him throwing her arms around his neck and crushing her lips into his. Gendry wrapped his strong arms around her waist and her arse. 

Pressing her against him. 

She was akin to a wild animal. A need to break his skin and bury in his warmth. While one hand was embracing him the other traveled up and down his arm and his back. She liked the feeling of every bulk of muscle. She imagined what would be to lick and bite his flesh and Arya felt dampness in her small clothes. The sensation scared her, and she stopped the kiss.

He released her on the ground; she steadied her feet with a bit of a struggled. She wanted to rub her thighs together too badly. 

She turned around giving her back to him to arrange her clothes. Without turning to face him she walked where her gear was left and walked away from Gendry. 

______________________-

He was in his chambers going about what transpired earlier in the afternoon. After Arya had left him standing by himself in the middle of the woods. His initial excitement, having her accept his advances, turned into unreleased wanton and anger. He had to relieve himself by hand so he could face his two squires. He’d never been this hard in his life. 

He realized he wasn’t angry because she stopped, but she left and didn’t say a word. Later that day he saw her in the halls, and she acted as if nothing happened. Gendry laughed bitterly. When will he learn?

Somebody knocked on his door. 

“Enter.”

It was a chambermaid, she smiled brightly at him, in courtesy he smiled back, and he saw blushed. If only would be this easy with Arya.

The girl removed the empty plates of his supper. He chose to eat alone in his chamber to avoid Arya. 

As soon as the girl finished, she gave him a small courtesy and left giggling. 

The knowledge he had in his father was the same the realm had about Robert Baratheon. The man was a great warrior in his youth and a fat, drunkard whoremonger in his late years. Gendry wondered how many maids giggled at his father. Was the realm expecting the resembled he shared with his father extend beyond his looks? Will he be a good Lord of Storm’s End? 

He heard another knock in his door. The chambermaid must have forgotten something.

“Enter.” He said searching around for what was forgotten. 

“I don’t think you left anything….” His words died in his lips when he saw her.

“You thought I was the chambermaid.” 

“She left a moment ago, she was picking up…”

“The plates of your supper. I know. She walked down the hall giggling like a fool. Your doing, no doubt.” She was wearing fresh versions of what he wore in the afternoon, her hair was damped and for once it wasn’t done in the northern style, it was loose around her face. You seem to have that effect in most maid in the red keep. A small smiled playing in the corners of her lips while her eyes searched the room. 

“What are you doing here?” He finally said after snapping out of his enthrallment.

“I… I … I shouldn’t have done it. Considering what happened at Winterfell, I don’t want you to think things that are not there.”

He guessed it was his time to laugh at her now. “Things that are not there?” He scoffed. “Pardon 

My Lady, but it wasn’t me who jumped on you.” 

“You kissed me first.” 

“Aye, I did that and then we paused and jumped on me.”

Arya's face turned different shades of red. “You, stupid Bull. Stupid Bull.” 

“That’s your best insult M’lady?” Arya took two long steps and stood in front of him facing him up. He lowered his face to her. “Give me your best insult My Lady.” All this time she had to refuse to look at him in the eyes, he would not give her that change any more. He saw the flames of the candles danced in her eyes. Giving them a yellow hue, like her wolf. Anger, he saw too, while the rest of her face remained impassive.

What happened next was unexpected. She leaned forward and kiss him. It wasn’t the passioned kiss they shared in the afternoon. This one was slow and tentative. He joined her, but something was nagging him in the back of his mind. He stopped the kissed and stood straight. 

“Stop playing with me, Arya.” He heard himself begging. 

Her eyebrows deep in her frown. She was thinking. 

“I’m not playing with you. I do want to kiss you.” 

He lowered himself again and kissed. It was different this time. Deep and rougher. He snaked an arm around her bringing her forward. Pressing her against him. Her hands were restless on him, touching him. She snuck her small hands beneath his shirt feeling his skin. Every rose of her fingers was scorching him. he thought the forge was the hottest thing he ever experienced. He pushed up holding her by her arse. She crossed her legs around him. Now that they were at the same level the kissed deepened. He walked to the bed and laid on it without breaking the kiss being careful not to crush with his weight. The kissed was broken. She whined. He needed air. 

He took his shirt off and he watched her studying him. Her eyes traveled all over his naked upper body. She looked pleased with the view. Much to his dismay he smirked, she managed to look offended only for a brief moment. 

“Stop looking at me and kiss me.”  
________________

Their encounters happened every night and every night something new was thrown into the mix. 

The second night she was the one who took her shirt off, showing him her small tits. After while  
his eyes wandered down to the single scar in her stomach. And his eyes widened.

“I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“I’m not, but how did you get that?”

“It’s a long story.”

Later, after they finished the heavy panting of their kissing and touching, she told her of the waif that attacked her.

The third night she was on top of him. While they kissed Arya began to rub her cunt against his leg. She stopped the kissing to concentrate solely on the rubbing. Her eyes were closed, and her eyes brows knit together in deep concentration. She was struggling. She kept going until a small moaned escape her. Still, she looked disappointed.

The next night he helped her. He hoisted her against him in the bed. He looked at her for permission and she nodded. He trailed his hands all over her naked body stopping in her cunt. She was incredibly wet and hot. He used one finger to find where she ached. She whimpered when he did and added another finger. Arya trashed, moaned and whine as his finger worked on her. 

The fifth night was the same thing than the last one, only this time Arya insisted on returning him the favor. As far as he was concerned Arya was a maid, so he was surprised when she worked her hands on him so well. He ended up panting heavily, all sweaty and sated. 

“How..?”

“I worked in a whore house in Braavos. Well, a house of pleasure.” She said nonchalantly 

“You what???” He almost screamed.

“Yes, part of the training in the house of black and white was to get information, the best place to get information is in a whore house, worked in one for a while. It is also a great place to learn other’s people behavior.” 

“You bedded other men?” He was mildly angry.

“What? No. I waited tables and sold oysters. When the days were slow the women gave me advice. Sometimes I overheard them teaching new acolytes.”

“Acolytes?”

“Yes, in Essos being a whore, well a courtesan, is not frowned upon, quite the opposite. Do you want me to show what else I learned?” She raised an eyebrow at him as she climbed the bed. 

The days went by and every night would show up at his chamber. They have done almost everything but take her maidenhead. He didn’t want to bring up the issue of marriage. Come morning they would act as if he didn’t spend the night before with his face bury in her cunt. It was clear that she still didn’t want to wed him.

The day of the Royal wedding arrived and as it was planned, according to Tyrion it was a small affair. It didn’t look like that to him. 

“There are only five courses of meals instead of seventy-seven,” Tyrion replied. 

Gendry's eyes almost fell out of his sockets. “Whose wedding?” 

“The little shit of my nephew.”

Since the sept was destroyed the exchanging of wows was held in a garden. Arya told him that this would please the Dothraki.

To everybody's surprise, Arya wore a dress. He didn’t know how to react when he saw her. It was a deep blue with silver embroidery. Her hair was down. She looked beautiful.  
They didn’t stand together during the ceremony. In the feast, she came to her with a glass of wine in her hands. He started to laugh at her. 

“What are you laughing at?”

“At you, in a dress. I remember the first time I saw you in one. You snarled like a wild wolf while the lady at Acorn Hall washed out the dirt of many moons and then managed to put you into a dress, which you proceed to get dirty right away. Tell me how the Queen convinced you to wear one?”  
She smirked into her glass of vine. 

“She harassed me for weeks.”

Gendry laughed louder.

“You shouldn’t be laughing.”

“Why is that?”

“It took two chambermaids to get me into this dress. I was willing and they knew what they were doing. Let see how it works for you tonight when you try to take it off.”  
Gendry stopped laughing and his cock got hard. 

“Lord Baratheon,” She said with a small courtesy and walked away from him.

Later that night Arya went into his room. He had stopped drinking a long time ago, he was a little bit dizzy, nonetheless. 

She was right as usual. The dress took him long to take it off her. In the end, he had to use his hand to rip it off. She looked down at his work with such pleasure. 

Undressing Arya from such a pretty dress reminded him of something that he will never have. Her as his Lady wife. Suddenly he wasn’t in the mood anymore.

“Gendry what’s wrong?” Arya asked him half confused.

“I don’t think we should be doing this Arya, I want you to be my Lady, not the woman I kind of fuck sometimes.”

“Stupid Bull, are we having this conversation again? I told you, I don’t want to be a Lady.”

“Then don’t be Arya, just be my wife. You could do anything you want, wear breeches all the time, train and fight. I will manage the castle if you don’t want to. We don't have to have children. I am sure Robert left enough bastards who could take my place after I’m dead. Please, Arya, be my wife. You don’t have to be a Lady, but you could be my wife. Please.”

Arya stared at him for a long while, her eyes were in deep thought. She took long breaths and open her mouth several times just to shut it again without a word to him. Bending over to gather the remaining of her dress to cover her body, she sat next to him the bed. 

“I am not so sure about having children. Mayhaps, I wouldn’t mind one in the future. Someone to teach sword fighting. The Gods know you still have a lot to learn.”

Gendry inhaled deeply at her words, happiness beginning to form in his chest.  


“Is that a yes?”

“Stupid Bull.” She smiled at him.


End file.
